


To Find Somebody

by Rose_2925



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys In Love, Eventual Smut, Fluff, GW2020, Gallavich, God's Own Country - Freeform, God's Own Country-Inspired, Irish! Ian, Language Barrier, Light Angst, Lots of Sheep, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sheep, Strangers to Lovers, Takes place in Ireland, Tea, The author loves these boys, Ukrainian Mickey Milkovich, farming, irish stuff, lots of tea drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_2925/pseuds/Rose_2925
Summary: Dear Mr.Gallagher,Thank you for your application to the Agricultural Exchange Program for the 2014 Season. We are happy to inform you that we have matched you up with another applicant for the period of Spring 2014.***************************Name: Mikhailo Aleksandr MilkovichSex: MaleAge: 20Country of Origin: RomaniaCountry of Birth: UkraineCitizen of EU: YesLanguage(s): Ukranian, Romanian, English (basic)Skills: Mechanical, Animal Husbandry, AgricultureUniversity/College Degree or Equivalent: NoDrivers License: YesMedical Condition(s): NoneDietary or Religious Restrictions: NoneStarting Availability: Any date after January 24th***************************Or, a Gods Own Country-inspired AU Where Ian is an Irish farmer and brings on Ukrainian Mickey to work with him. Created for the GW2020 prompt: Meet-Cute. Posting the first chapter ahead of their actual meeting so stay tuned :)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 25
Kudos: 80
Collections: Gallavich Week 2020





	1. All I Want

“Ian! Ian come see!” She shouted as she ran ever closer to the cliffs, her blonde hair flying out behind her.   
“Mum!” He shouted, chasing after her, his short legs unable to keep up. Her shrieking laughs starting to blend with the shrieks of the seagulls, coasting high above them. “Mum come back!” he pleaded, looking down as his pant leg snagged on a stray bit of wire fencing. When he looked up again she was gone, and he felt dread gather in the pit of his stomach. He ran to the edge and looked over, waiting to hear the splash as she hit the water hundreds of feet below—

Ian jolted awake then, sitting up in his bed with a start. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and willed his frantic pulse to slow down. Vivid dreams were nothing new to him but he hated waking up like this, clammy and sweating even though the room had a distinct chill. 

A familiar splashing noise sounded from the bathroom down the hall, as someone retched violently into the toilet. Ah, so Frank had finally stumbled in from the pub. Ian squinted at the alarm clock on Lip’s side of the room: 4:30 am. He groaned and flopped back down into bed, still another half hour of sleep to be had before he did the morning feed—that is if Frank would shut the hell up. Ian pulled his pillow over his head and burrowed into the warm sheets. Maybe it would be a good day today, maybe the sun would come out!

It was Ireland in January—the sun definitely wasn’t  
making an appearance anytime soon. 

Ian looked up at the cloudy sky as he sipped at his cup of tea, relishing the warmth that seeped from the china and into his fingertips. He loved the intricate pattern of Grannie Gallaghers tea set, she used to collect entire sets, some mother-of-pearl, edged in gold leaf, navy and white patterns. That was until the year Monica had left, sending Frank into such a downward alcoholic spiral he had pawned all but one of the sets. She still hadn’t forgiven him for that. 

“Ian, Breakfast’s ready!” Fiona called from the kitchen. He smiled as she brought out two steaming bowls of porridge, accompanied by more tea and two pieces of buttered toast. She sat across from him and the two siblings dug in. “Mmm Fi, this porridge—how come you always make it the best?”   
Fiona smiled, “uh uh, that’s my secret.” She poured the rest of the pitcher of milk into her bowl, “Oh milk—do you think you could grab some groceries from SuperSaver on your way back from the auction today?”  
Ian, his mouth full of toast, nodded in response.   
“Lip coming with you?”  
He rolled his eyes, smiling. “Sleeping beauty? Sure, if he’s dragged his arse out of bed by the time I’ve done the rounds.”

Fiona swatted at him teasingly “Psssh, let your brother sleep in, he’s been working hard at uni and he’ll be gone again at the end of the week. Where did the time go?”

Ians smile shrunk just a little at the mention of school. He had passed his leaving certs last fall but they couldn’t afford to send him to school, not if they wanted to keep the farm afloat anyway. Lip had always been the genius and had managed to get some kind of grant to attend Trinity College in Dublin, while working a weekend job to help pay his rent. 

Fiona’s smile was sympathetic, she knew exactly what he was feeling. She had once wanted to go to Nursing school in Galway, but those dreams were dashed when Monica left, then returned with yet another Gallagher sibling; Liam, then disappeared again. When Frank had spiralled it was all on Fiona to keep things going, they were lucky they had a sympathetic landlady who was understanding when their money was late. Everyone was hit in the economic crash of 2008 and so many farmers were were late with payments, they were hardly a special case. Many let their horses run wild and their stock roam free. Lip, Ian and (surprisingly) Carl had managed to wrangle some of the horses, and had later sold them. It seemed they were always scrounging, and where the farm was theirs— the land had always been farmed by Gallaghers—Frank was never around enough to do anything. Farms needed stability, discipline, hard work—and Frank…well he needed his booze. Two of their uncles had moved overseas to America, the other had rid himself of them and moved somewhere up North. Thank god for Grannie and the internet, Ian and his siblings had endeavoured to learn everything they could about sheep farming and were now doing okay. Fiona was working as a carer in a nursing home, Ian ran the farm, Lip sent money whenever he could and Debbie and Carl helped take care of Liam (and yes, occasionally a drunken Frank.) It wasn’t perfect, but they made it work. 

“I’m picking up a shift from Siobhan tonight, you boys okay to make dinner?” Fiona asked, pulling Ian from his thoughts.  
He smirked and nodded, "I'm sure amongst the five of us we'll manage." Fiona just raised her eyebrows, amused, and pushed a small bowl of pills towards him. The motions feeling almost automatic now, he popped them in his mouth and chased them with the dregs of his tea, which had gone at bit cold. He swallowed, then held out his cup "One more and then I'm off!"

Ian checked first on the cows, then headed out to the four wheeler he and Lip had rigged to have a little more kick than the average farming model. He drove up to the north pasture, where the sheep were happily grazing, seemingly indifferent to the grey, wet day. He checked all the water barrels and double checked the latches on the gate--when they had first started their farming endeavours they had accidentally left one gate unlatched and chasing the sheep back into the right pasture was something he didn't have the energy for. Carl, on the other hand, had enjoyed it. In some ways he was better than a farm dog. Ian pulled out a cigarette and leaned against the stone-wall, lighting it and exhaling the smoke into the already foggy field. He felt a buzz from his pocket and pulled out his phone, suprised. Usually the signal was horrible up in the pastures but a text notification lit up his screen. 

**CALEB  
**"Yo Ian! Long-time no see man, I'm back in town--you should join me and the boys in Galway this weekend! Rented an Airbnb and its gonna be LIT!!! "

Ian rolled his eyes, knowing that while Caleb meant well, there was no way in hell that was happening. Caleb had arrived at Ian's school at the beginning of his final year. Tall, handsome and American, Caleb's parents had moved from Chicago for his fathers job. He was seriously cute and a novelty for Ian and his classmates, everyone wanted to be his friend and Ian had felt flattered when he'd been one of the few chosen. He was even more flattered, a couple weeks later, when Caleb had leaned forward and kissed him when they were hanging out one Friday night. They had been sitting outside the pub, sharing a smoke, and Ian was glad for the darkness, hoping that it hid the fierce blush he knew was spreading across his cheeks. Damn his fair irish skin! While it wasn't taboo, gay relationships were still relatively rare in his part of the country. Of course, his gay-ass had to live in the one county that voted AGAINST the same sex-marriage referedum. UGH.   
Still, Ian was no virgin and enthusiastically started dating Caleb, that was until he caught him in the school yard with his hand up Holly McCleary's skirt. When he confronted him about it later Caleb claimed that because she was a girl it wasn't techincally cheating, and that he and Ian had never discussed whether they were exclusive. Ian had scoffed, he grew up with Frank and Monica for parents, he could smell bullshit a mile away. He'd felt hurt for while, but missed the attention, the feeling special and had started seeing Caleb again, seeing some other boys too. Things had just kind of spun out of control and on a cold december morning he had startled a nun half-to death when she found him, naked and ranting, in the confessional box of their parish church. Turns out Monica had done more than abandon him, she had also passed on her biopolar disorder. 

After a couple months in and out of mental health facilities (thank god for the influx of money from the EU) Ian was more or less stable. The combination of his medications and the reliable, consistent day-to-day routine of living on a farm, plus lots of exercise and fresh air, meant he was seeing things clearer than he had for a while. He just wished he didn't have to see how lonely he was. Some of Ian's childhood friends had come to visit him, and were still in touch--inviting him to join them at the pub, or go away to Ibiza for a lad's trip. Apart from the fact his family needed him, both those activities were almost certain to involve copious amounts of alchohol, something that was no longer an option for him. 

He sighed and put out his cigarette, noting the time on his phone and a new text from Lip 

**LIP:  
** Hey asshole I'm up! We going to the auction or are you having yourself a fun time with the sheep up there?

Ian smiled, as much as he teased his brother for becoming a city boy, he had missed him more than he could have imagined. He checked the latch on the gate again before starting the four-wheeler up and heading home.

"Eighty bid, eighty bid. One? Eighty-one. Two? Eighty-two--"   
Ian leaned on the rails as he watched the cow walk in circles around the pen, tapped by the wooden crop to keep moving. This was one of the parts Ian hated about farming, the selling. Call him a sap all you like, he thought there was some kind of bond, raising an animal and caring for it, then selling it off for slaughter. He glanced around at the lined faces, all experienced farmers, probably been farming longer than he'd been alive. Ian turned to say something to Lip but instead saw him several feet over, talking to Karen Jackson. He rolled his eyes, typical. He got up and rubbed his cold hands together, then decided to go get a bite to eat from the canteen. 

He paid for his rashers, beans and toast and looked around the room. "Ian! Ian, lad over here!" Ian smiled and walked over to Micheal McNaughton who was grinning and waving his hand. Ian liked Mike, he was a kind man who didn't mind Ian's relentless questions, and was always encouraging--even when Ian made mistakes. He sat down across from him and another man who he didnt recognize. Ian shook Mike's hand and smiled back, "Good to see ya Mike. How're things?" Mike shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly. "Maureen's got it in her heid to start renovating the kitchen, lord save us, but it's been put on hold on account of our visitor over here." He pointed his thumb to the man sitting with him. "This here's my cousin James, come all the way from America to come visit his irish kin." Mike announced proudly. "James, this is Ian Gallagher, a fine young farmer." The man smiled tightly, "Actually, I prefer to go by Jimmy.." Ian refrained from laughing, the McNaughtons were fairly devout catholics and he didn't think they'd be shortening James to Jimmy anytime soon. He extended his hand and James-Jimmy? shook it. Ian started in on his food while Mike gave him updates on the farm and the family, on his cousin's visit and upcoming plans. While Mike had his own mouth full Jimmy gestured to Ian's rashers. "Is that like..Canadian bacon?" he asked timidly. Ian looked down at his plate..Canadian? At his quizzical expression Jimmy rushed to explain "No, I mean I know we're in Ireland it's just I've spent some time in Toronto and Montreal and it looks a little like their bacon, its thick cut and honestly I find it tastes more like ham.." he trailed off. Ian let out a short laugh "I think you should do the man a favour and buy streaky rashers from here on out Mike." Mike shook his head in mock-exasperation "First with the coffee and now the rashers? Bleedin' Americans Ian..what next!" Ian was just about to make his excuses to get back to Lip when Mike spoke again. "Looking forward to your first proper lambing season are ya lad?"   
Ian nearly choked on his last bite of toast and downed his cup of tea to get it down. Truth be told, he was sort of dreading it. He knew lambing was an integral part of sheep farming, but he had only had a couple rams the past couple years and as the farm did better he was able to purchase more--meaning this year would have a sizeable number of new lambs. He hoped he didn't look as pale as he felt. Any hope of controlling his feelings was dashed when Mike gave a hearty laugh. "Aye its not so bad as that, Ian! Mostly the ewe's know what they're about--its just when mother nature needs a little help that you'll have to step in." Ian let out a breath, not feeling any more assured. "I'll handle it Mike, what other choice do I have? Can you imagine Carl or Debbie helping me?" Mike made a face at that, all too aqquainted with his soft-hearted sister and...less scrupulous younger brother. Then suddenly his face lit up "I know just the thing! My brother down in Killarney applied to be a host with this program when he was in need of a farm hand but a bit short on bob*. Farm Exchange, I think they call themselves, send lads with farming experience who're looking to improve their english. Some kinda EU intiative, gives em a small stipend and all ye have to do is give em room n board. Tony got himself a bargain, let me tell you. Romanian fella knew what he was doing, saved several of his precious merinos last year.

And just like that, the idea was lodged in his head. It rolled around, sounding better and better. Wouldn't have to camp up in the upper fields alone, he thought, as they pushed a cart down the aisles in the grocery store. Won't have to make Fiona help me when I know she'd literally be anywhere else, he thought as he took the roast chicken out of the oven later that night. Yes, he decided, this was the best idea Mike had given him in a while. 

On Sunday, after dropping Lip off at the train station, he headed over to visit his Grandmother. Grannie Gallagher had a cute little victorian flat in the centre of town, and a vicious sweet tooth. He moaned as he shoved a forkful of banoffee pie into his mouth, Fiona had been working a lot over the last while and it felt like forever since he'd had sweets that weren't merely chocolate-covered digestives. "How do you always have the best sweets for tea, Gran? She smiled at him and took another sip of her tea, black two sugars.   
"Out with it lad!"  
Ian raised his eyebrows and tried to sound innocent. "What d'you mean?"   
"You may be one of my favourite grandchildren but I can always tell when someone's buttering me up to ask for something."

Ian blushed, caught in the act. "Okay, well see Gran, I'm a bit nervous about this years lambing and we can't afford to hire any extra help. Micheal McNaughton was telling me about this program, farm hands looking to improve their english or somethin'. EU gives 'em a salary and we just have to give 'em room 'n board." Gran listened and then raised her eyebrows expectantly. "I hope you'll not be expecting ME to provide the room and board." 

"No, no!" Ian protested, "But you know we're a bit short for rooms as is, and I was thinking maybe you'd lend us the motor-home." Monica and Frank had used the motor home to travel (bum their way around) the country and after Monica had left, Grannie had claimed the little RV as payment for various loans she had given them over the years. Why she wanted it Ian would never know, it was a little dated, and god only knows when it had been cleaned last.   
She crossed her arms, deliberating, finished her cup of tea and gestured towards the teapot. Ian filled her cup and tossed in two sugar cubes, stirring it before handing it back to her. "You're lucky you look so much like my Clayton." she said, half fondness half aggrivation. I want it back in pristine condition, no smoking the marijuana or having out-of-wedlock intercourse in that motor-home! You hear me?" 

Ian gave a shocked laugh, he had only half-expected his grandmother to agree. "I promise Gran!" 

She gave him a wry smile. "It'll need a good cleaning, and for the love of god, make sure you padlock that thing to keep feckin' Frank out!"

That night, Ian proposed the arrangement to the rest of his siblings. Unsurprisingly, they were all for it, Fiona figured it was as good a way as any to get free labour (it also ensured she wouldn't have to be up to her elbows--literally--in animal insides.) So, that night, Ian sat at the family computer and went to the website on the card Mike had given him. He winced as he had to enter his credit card information--50 bleedin euro for REGISTRATION? After filling in all the relevant information (What kind of farm it was, roughly how many weeks of employment, accomodation, languages spoken other than english--Ian hoped the mans english was passable, because other than a few sentences in gaelic he learned while on a school trip to Achil Island, it was all he had. Lip, on the other hand, picked up languages with ease, like everything else. Still, Ian figured, if part of the deal was to improve your English, they had to have a basic knowledge, right? Hand reflexively tapping mid-air above the trackpad, he decided--feck it--what did he have to lose? and clicked Submit. 

After receiving an initial "Thank you for your application" automated email, Ian got no further communication. He was a little frustrated, but Mike said that it took a while to match applicants up. So he tried not to worry that he had wasted a weeks worth of grocery money, and went on with his daily routine. 

A week had passed without reply when Fiona had come home to work with a huge grin and flushed cheeks. "Guess who got a raise!" She shouted, everyone rushing in to congratulate her. Ian was pleased to see Fiona happy, she hadn't had it easy and it was rare that things went her way. 

"Well, I'd say this demands for a wee trip to the Alibi" Ian said, after pulling back from hugging her. Her eyebrows rose, knowing that Ian had some less-than-wonderful memories of the Alibi (they'd all been stranded there by Frank at one time or another) and that he usually liked to be in bed by half-nine. Still, he was the obvious designated driver now, and he was in a generous mood. After supper they hopped into the truck and headed down the dark road to the pub. 

The Alibi Room was a small, well-loved pub that definitely need a new coat of red paint on its exterior. Located on the main street of their quiet village, it was everyone's regular--mostly because it was that or go to the Rusty Nail, which hadn't passed a health code assesment for decades. Stan had been running the place as long as Ian could remember, but a couple years ago his nephew and his wife had taken over the bar. They pushed inside the door, the smell of stale, spilled drinks and the peat fire oldly comforting. "Gallaghers!" The tall bearded man behind the bar shouted in greeting. Kevin "Ball" Ballycroy had lived in Ireland untill he was 6 years old, then his father had moved them to the United States. When Stan had realised his only son wanted no part in the pub, he decided to offer it to his newphew. Kevin and his American wife had jumped at the offer, packing up their few belongings and moving over almost immediately. Fiona had taken a liking to Veronica, or Vee, as she insisted she be called. The two of them had become close friends, and Vee started worked dayshifts at the retirement community with her. The two started coming over for meals, during the holidays--they were like the cousins that the Gallaghers very much had that wanted nothing to do with them. As for running the pub, Ian liked them both; they were honest people, didn't overcharge and always made Ian feel welcome--even if he was there with another boy, or more often lately, even if he didn't drink anything alcoholic. Instead, they just slid a gingerale with lime across the bar without him asking. Tonight the bar was fairly full, the corner full of old men talking loudly about some WWE fight or another on cable.   
Vee came out from the back room and grinned when she saw them, "Ian! Fi! What're y'all doing here on a Thursday? Trying to hunt down Frank again?"   
Ian rolled his eyes but smiled, unlike most people, Vee understood that just because a man was your father, didn't mean you had to respect him; and when he was Frank? You grew not to care too much where he was or what he was up to. 

Fiona stretched both arms out wide, "Screw that arsehole, your girl just got a RAISE! Pour me a whiskey!" Vee squealed and ran over to hug Fiona. "Thats amazing! First round's on the house!" Ian talked a bit with Kevin and was going to suggest Fiona order her last round when the door banged open and in came Mike, dragging along Jimmy-James. "Fiona Gallagher! Just the lass I was looking for. My good cousin James over here has been maligning irish women and I need you to set him straight. Ian turned on his barstool to watch, this should be interesting. 

Jimmy-James paled and held up his hands. "NO! I just meant that American women are more...uninhibited! That's all!"   
Fiona looked him up and down, "Are ye saying irish women are..inhibited, then? That we don't know how to have a good time? You, Mr. Big-shot-American, wouldn't know a good time if it fell into your lap." 

Gobsmacked, Mike gave his poor cousin a slap on the back then went over to talk to Ian while he recovered. Ian saw Vee and Fiona corner the poor Yank before Mike was talking to him. "So! You decided what to do about the lambs then, Ian?"  
Ian's attention snapped back, "Oh I did, I submitted the application and paid the theives price but I haven't heard anything back yet!" Mike nodded his head, "I'm sure it won't be long now, plenty of people out of work." Ian finished off his drink and stood, he certainly hoped Mike was right. He checked the time on his phone and went to get Fiona, celebrations or not, he needed to take his nightly meds and get to bed or he'd be a zombie in the morning. He stopped by where she and Jimmy-James were now talking animatedly--how the hell had that happened?  
She turned around when he nudged her shoulder and introduced him, only for Ian to explain that they had already met at the auction that week. Fiona raised her eyebrow at him in a distinct way that he interpreted as *just how well do you two know each other?* He shook his head discreetly. Dating in rural villages was slim pickings, and the last thing you wanted to do was find out you were hoping to shift someone your sibling had slept with. She smiled in relief, before looking at the time on her own phone. "Oh God, it's getting late Ian, I'm sorry I must have lost track of time." Her companion looked alarmed "You're not going already are you?" Now she raised her eyebrow at him. "Well Ian's my ride and unlike you city folk we actually have to get up before noon."  
He looked disapointed, "Um, can't I offer you a ride home? Mike said he'd drive.."   
Fiona considered for a minute before looking up at Ian. "If it's alright wi' you Ian, I think i'll take Jimmy here up on his offer. Give him a while longer to prove that its not the *Americans* that are the wet blankets."

Ian smiled, knowing Fiona didn't have work until the afternoon and that she rarely got to stay out late. "Okay, see ya later Fi." He gave her shoulder a squeeze before heading home. As he was unlocking the car he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Startled, he spun around to find none other than Frank, swaying on his feet. "Frank" he said, relieved but still annoyed, "The feck are you doing?"

"'S my damn truck!" Frank slurred, unsteady on his feet. "Gimme!"   
Ian rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "You're drunk as skunk, Frank. Stumble your way back to Shelagh's and sleep it off." Frank's latest victim was poor Shelagh Jackson. Shelagh's husband Eddie, an unpleasant man, was a lorry driver who had died in a horrific crash, but left her with a lot of insurance money. Of course, Frank had his teeth sunk into her before the man was even buried. When Frank wasn't passed out somewhere or puking into their toilet, he was living with Shelagh. Why the woman didn't throw his often piss-soaked father into the gutter, Ian had no idea.   
"Dammnit Clayton, give me **MY KEYS**!" Frank shouted, nearly falling backwards. Ian grabbed for his inebriated father and was rewarded by Frank socking him the jaw. The blow didn't have much force behind it but it caused Ian to bite his lip and when he licked his throbbing lower lip he tasted blood. Okay, that was enough of that. "Get lost Frank" he said lowly, before giving him a firm shove and swinging into the cab of the truck. He started the ignition and flashed Frank with his hi-beams before swiftly reversing and driving away. 

  
The next day he decided to go into town to do a proper grocery shop and also pick up some house-hold stuff from the Aldi in the shopping center. Since Debbie and Carl were back in school it meant he was on Liam-duty. He scooped his four-year old brother up and placed him in the kiddie-seat by the handlebars of the cart, though he was getting a little big for it by now. Liam was supposed to have started school last fall but while Ian was struggling with his meds and Lip was trying to help while also getting ready to go back to college, Liam had found his way into an old cookie tin. Only problem with this cookie tin was that it was where Monica and Frank had left a forgotten stash of drugs. Ian's sort of hazy on the details, a lot feels hazy about that time, but Liam ended up in the ICU with possible brain damage. Fiona had been investigated by Child services but they knew it wasn't likely her doing, Frank and Monica were notorious by that point as "Goddamn Gallagher and his crazy Yankee wife."

Liam seemed to be fine, they had been working on his motor skills and he could read simple sentences, but they were going to have him assessed again and enroll him later in the year.   
After using up the coupons Debbie had diligently collected, Ian treated himself to a smoothie. He sat with Liam on his lap and pulled out his paper and crayons. As Liam started frantically scribbling, Ian connected to the wifi and checked his email. He saw the red bubble announce he had 4 new messages. Two were automated emails from stores, one had weird russian-looking letters and the last was from the Agricultural Exchange Program. Only really interested in that email, he quickly sent the others to his trash bin and opened the long-awaited message. 

"Dear Mr.Gallagher, 

Thank you for your application to the Agricultural Exchange Program for the 2014 Season. We are happy to inform you that we have matched you up with another applicant for the period of Spring 2014.   
***************************************

Name: Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich  
Sex: Male  
Age: 20   
Country of Origin: Romania  
Country of Birth: Ukraine  
Citizen of EU: Yes  
Language(s): Ukranian, Romanian, English (basic)  
Skills: Mechanical, Animal Husbandry, Agriculture  
University/College Degree or Equivalent: No  
Drivers License: Yes  
Medical Condition(s): None  
Dietary or Religious Restrictions: None  
Starting Availability: Any date after January 24th

*******************************************

If the above applicant details meet your requirements please respond to the email with an affirmative, if the applicant does not meet your requirements and you would prefer to be matched with an alternative applicant please send us an email with more details so we can better match you. In the next 24-48 hours your applicant should reach out to you at your provided email address to arrange for transportation and further communication. If you have any questions or concerns please don't hesitate to contact us at contact@agriexchange.ie or +353872259402. 

Cheers!

  
Jenny 

Agricultural Exchange Application Co-Ordinator"

  
Ian scanned through the details excitedly, Mikhailo (Mee-ka-lo?) was the same age as Lip, only two years older than him! He seemed to have more farming experience than Ian (Which, okay, wasn't that hard) and was available next week. He figured he sounded like the perfect fit and replied to the email that he would accept. Ian grinned, feeling like for the first time in a long time, things were looking up. 

Fiona was out that night again with Mike's cousin, who Fiona had insisted she was referring to as JIMMY, so Ian sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels, settling on an old re-run of the Graham Norton show. He decided to do a little research, first on Romania then Ukraine. He saw a picture of the ukrainian alphabet and thought it looked vaguely familiar..kind of like the spam email he'd deleted. Mentally smacking himself on the head, he realised he'd probably deleted Mikhailo's email. He went back to his trash folder and restored it back to the Inbox. The email, which he belatedly realised only had one or two cyrillic letters, was written in english. 

"Hello Mr.Gallagher, 

My name is Mikhailo and I am hoping to work on your farm with exchange program. I am strong, work hard and grew up on farm. Please if questions I will answer, I can leave January 24th. 

Thank You

Mikhailo Milkovich"

Short, and to the point--and honestly his english was likely better than Carl's. Ian fired back a quick response. 

"Hi Mikhailo, 

Sorry for the late reply, I would be happy to have you come work with us this season. Anytime after the 24th works fine for me, how would Monday January 27th work? I'm sure you've recieved the address of the farm, the nearest train station is in Athlone, once you get in to Dublin Airport you can either get the bus or the train. If you can arrange your transportation to Athlone rail station I will drive down to pick you up once you arrive. My cell number is +353 90 5463300, so you can call me if you need to reach me. 

Thanks again and I'll say the same, If you have any questions or concerns I'm happy to answer. 

cheers, 

Ian"

He hit send and went to make himself a cup of tea, shouting up to Debbie to ask if she wanted any. "No Thanks!" she shouted down, "Night Ian!" He turned to look at the time, 8:00. No way was she going to bed this early on a Friday. He merely shrugged then went to wait for the kettle to boil. As long as they went to bed on time during the school week, he didn't pry. After scrounging around for the last of the biscuits he plopped back onto the couch. Unable to focus on the tv, he opened his phone back up. He pressed on the facebook icon, figuring the guy would never know if Ian had looked him up--he couldn't help it! Now he wanted to know what this Mikhailo looked like. Would he be tall and blonde? or short and swarthy? Ian chuckled to himself, willing to bet 100 euro that he wouldn't also have red hair. After typing in his name, Ian realised it wasn't going to be that easy. Turns out Mikhailo was a very common name in both Romania and Ukraine, when he typed in his full name the only account that came up had a profile picture that looked like Steven Seagal. Sighing, Ian rested his head against the couch-back, and just as he was considering calling it a (stupidly early) night, felt his phone vibrate again. 

He didn't recognize the country code or the number, but he sat up straighter as he read the message--it was from the exhange guy! 

+380 44 258 1120

Hello Mr.Gallagher,   
This is cell-phone number, internet not always work. 01/27/2014 is good, will book flight and send time. Will take bus to Athlone Train Station.  
Thank you  
Mikhailo 

Ian smiled, for once looking forward to a change in his routine. He saved Mikhailo's number into his phone and prayed it would all work out for the best. 


	2. To see you knocking at my door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Rolls shoulders, cracks knuckles* Get ready for Ukrainian Mickey :))

Only his second flight, and Mikhailo hated it just as much as his first. Tattoo'd knuckles gripped the blue plastic arm rest as the plane dropped and his stomach rose into his chest. He wondered idly if maybe he'd chosen a slightly more expensive flight the pilot would've been sober. It would be his kind of fucking luck that he'd escape his father only to die in such a stupid way, on a budget airline flying to a country he knew virtually nothing about. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to distract himself with the fact that soon he would have thousands of kilometres and a body of water between him and his home. The Milkovich farm outside of Odessa was where he was born, but it never really felt like home. Home is somewhere you're supposed to feel safe, loved, welcomed. And well, with his father living there, that was something he'd rarely felt.

The last time he'd ever felt safe or loved was when his mother was alive. Alexandra Milkovich had always looked out for her children, sheltered them from Terry as best she could. Little did he know she would also be looking out for them even after she was gone. When he was 17 his father caught him going down on one of his male classmates and wasn't too happy about it. After beating him within an inch of his life then going on a drunken bender, Mikhailo and his younger sister (whose birth name was Minodora but their mother had always called Mandy, after some German figure skater she admired) had packed up their things and prepared to go--where they weren't sure, but anywhere was better than staying with their monster of a father. While taking some of her mothers belongings, Mandy had found a carefully wrapped parcel, inside were all their birth certificates, as well as Romanian passports bearing their names. The passports were out of date, but they only needed identification to cross into their mothers homeland. Once they made it, they got in contact with their aunt who lived in Bucharest. Their mothers only sister, Daryna had always regretted letting her poor little sister marry that monster Terry, and was more than happy to take them in. It was pretty good for a while, living in a house where no one beat you for imaginary insults, or for taking the last cigarette in the pack. For 2 years no one threw an empty bottle at their head or locked them outside on a cold winter night. They also got another sister, in the form of their cousin Alexsandra. Their two oldest brothers had already moved on with their lives; last they heard one was married and the other had disappeared somewhere in Russia.

In hindsight, he should have known it would never last. Terry had found Mikhailo one day when he was out in the city, appearing like a ghost out of nowhere and slamming his forehead into his in a crushing head-butt. Thankfully Mandy was still at home, and Terry had chosen his timing poorly--the whole beating took place in a public square, new-fangled CCTV cameras and all. He was dragged kicking and screaming into a police car. Mikhailo didn't stick around for long; he returned back to Daryna's and told Mandy to take most of the money they had saved and lay low, he would find somewhere to hide until Terry lost their trail. He had worked that summer on a dairy farm, using the skills his father had beaten into him for something useful. Only problem with seasonal work was it was just that--seasonal. That's how on a bitterly cold December night he found himself in a small rural bar, beside an objectively-good-looking Romanian. The man had been very chatty, telling him that the European Union had all sorts of money, jobs, only problem was that you had to go to a different country to find them, it seemed. He told Mikhailo of this program that his cousin had heard of, sending citizens of the "less-profitable" EU countries abroad if they had skills in desirable sectors, such as business, hospitality, agriculture. His attention had been honed in after that. Bonus, the man had said, they got to improve their english skills. His cousin, sadly, had not qualified since his mother was an English teacher and his English was almost-fluent. Mikhailo nodded sympathetically but the gears in his head were spinning. So what if during his first year in Romania he had taken the odd English-language course at the community centre. And sure, maybe he had checked out a mechanical textbook or two and the odd English-novel from the nearby library. Unable to go to school and not able to work full time, he'd had plenty of time on his hands. Wasn't his fault he picked up languages with ease, it wasn't like much else had come easily to him. All he had to do was lie--and that was something he'd gotten pretty good at.

"Please return to your seats and put them back to the upright position. We are starting our descent and will soon be landing at Dublin International Airport. Connecting--"

Mikhailo opened his eyes and peered out the window, but all he could see were grey clouds. He squeezed his eyes back shut as the plane tossed from side to side, please God not yet, he was so close!  
He only had a small bag of belongings, no checked luggage, so after getting through the gates he grabbed a cup of coffee from the nearest cafe. Joining the airport wifi he looked at the bus times to “Athlone”. He had done a little research, not wanting to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere, without a clue. He climbed aboard the next bus and took a seat in the back, hoping to rest for a while. Turns out the dipping, winding roads put him right to sleep, after a while he jolted awake, terrified he had missed his stop. He pulled out the small bus scheduled he had folded and shoved in his pocket, he was a couple stops from his destination. Mikhailo looked out the window to be met by similarly cloudy skies and green fields dotted with white blobs--sheep. It didn't look totally foreign, though the method of using stones to separate the different properties was something he hadn't seen before, or at least not so organized. When he finally got off at the main station he realized he was supposed to text Gallagher when he was close. Huffing, he pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text, again making sure that the English was just stilted enough. He didn't want the guy catching on to him, but also didn't want to seem stupid. Figuring he might be waiting a while, Mikhailo leant against the wall of the station and lit up a cigarette. The temperature wasn't that cold, but the air was heavy and wet, seeping into his canvas jacket. Looks like he'd be layering up after all, he was glad he'd brought plenty of shirts. His phone vibrated, "On my way! Be there in 10. -Ian"

Mikhailo wondered what Ian Gallagher was like, from what he could tell so far it looked like the Irish were a similarly built sort of people--not big hulking giants like his dad and older brothers. It had always irked him that his brothers, and now even his sister, were taller than him--he didn't like feeling at a disadvantage. Still, he'd seen some good-looking men so far and was definitely not thrilled about having to live like a monk for the foreseeable future. Hey, maybe Gallagher would have a son. A hot, conveniently gay son...a guy could dream right?  
Lighting up a second smoke and feeling a little nervous, it occurred to him that this was a bit of a risky gamble. What if the guy was crazy? Or what if he was...really chatty? Still, Mikhailo figured as long as he didn't try to kill him then he'd be an improvement from what awaited him once Terry finally tracked him down. He noted a blue truck pulling into a parking space at the end of the lot, then received another text "Just got in! I'm in the blue pickup. Where should I meet you?" Rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles, he strode towards the car.

——

Mandy had always said that while he was a man of few words, his facial expressions spoke volumes. If that was the case, he wondered what his face looked like now. He could feel his eyebrows sky rocket to his hairline as he took in the man who got out of the car--it looked like Gallagher had an attractive son after all! He peered in the car, not seeing anyone else in there..but that would mean--

"Mikhailo?" the man asked, and he tried not to wince at his pronunciation. It sounded more like mee-ka-low, still, he nodded. The red-haired man smiled and held out his hand, "Ian Gallagher, nice to meet you!" Once again Mikhailo felt his eyebrows shoot up. This was the farmer he'd be working for? He had to be younger than he, though he was a good head taller than him. "Hello" he replied, his mouth feeling dry.  
Mikhailo remembered his mother telling him handshakes made an important first impression, and gripped the other mans hand firmly. God, he even had large hands, long fingers... he mentally shook himself. This was definitely not the time or the place to be checking out his new boss. He'd reflect on developing a sudden attraction to freckle-faced redheads later. Realizing he was probably staring too long, Mikhailo met the mans eyes, only to catch Ian sizing him up as well. Thankfully he broke the silence, "Erm, you've had a long day already, want ta toss your bag in the boot and we'll head home?" Mikhailo looked down at his boots...on his feet..then back up. Seeing his confusion Ian gestured at his bag, then opened the back seat of the truck. Mikhailo placed his bag on the seat then climbed in the passenger side, watching Ian walk back around to the drivers side. He found the nervousness had not completely gone, but instead shrunk and settled somewhere in the middle of his chest. Suddenly feeling very out of place and self-conscious, he stared out the window as they turned onto a narrow country road. Not surprisingly, Ian was the one to initiate conversation again. "How was the journey over then? Find the bus okay?"  
About to nod, but realizing he'd have to start talking to the man sometime, he formulated his response carefully.  
"Bus was okay. Flight, not so okay."  
Ian chuckled, "Not a fan of flying then huh?"  
Mikhailo shook his head shortly, gripping the car door when the road seemed to drop from under them.

"Bit of a bumpy road, this" Ian explained as they continued to speed along the paved, but rolling road. "Sort of like a rollercoaster, at least so I've been told.” There were several words in that sentence Mikhailo wasn't sure he understood, so this time he chose to nod. "Are ye hungry? Fiona's fixing up a nice pot roast in honour of your arrival." He looked sideways at him, "Meat and potatoes sound a’right?" Meat and potatoes sounded heavenly right now, and Mikhailo swore his stomach growled at the promise of a hot meal. Not wanting to embarrass himself by getting sick on the plane, it had been a while since he had eaten anything substantial. He was used to going hungry as a child, but when they'd finally left Terry he'd realized how nice it was to not be starving for days at a time, and his body had gotten used to regular meals. He nodded vigorously, hoping he seemed gracious and not just hungry. "Sounds very good."  
Ian smiled as they turned in to a drive fenced in by stone, a white-washed farmhouse and large black barn coming into view, "This is home!"

They pulled up in front of the house and Mikhailo got out, grabbing his bag from the back of the truck. Ian walked around the front of the car towards him and gestured for him to follow. As they neared the side of the barn he saw what looked like a caravan. "So erm, on the website it said ye'd be wanting a private space? We're five of us in the house and it's always a bit of a squeeze. I hope this'll be alright. You can use the main bathroom for showers.." He opened the door and Mikhailo followed him inside. The space was small, but tidy, a bed took up the back wall, a little bigger than a single. There was a set of drawers, and a door that revealed a somewhat cramped toilet and sink. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it'd be nice to have his own space, separate from the main house. Ian was still talking, sounding a bit nervous. "It's perfect for me" he interrupted quietly, surprising them both. Ian grinned, and the thing in his chest that had settled clenched at the sight. Before he could say something even more awkward his stomach rumbled loudly. He felt his cheeks heat and saw Ian smile wider. Unable to look at him anymore he settled for somewhere over his shoulder "We eat now?"

Ian chuckled and stepped out of the caravan, Mikhailo followed, but was then met by the sight of a small group of cows watching them from the stone-fenced pasture. "Cows are curious creatures eh? Stubborn and ornery to be sure, but also curious." Ian walked up and scratched one on the face. Mikhailo followed, thinking these cows looked much healthier than the skinny pair his father had kept on their farm, or even the ones on the dairy farm he had worked. He found himself imitating Ian, scratching one of the cows on the whorl of its forehead. "Milk?" he asked.  
"Aye, some" Ian said "that and stimulating conversation" he added under his breath. He pushed back off the wall, nodding towards the house, "Now that ye've met the animals, it's time for ye to meet the real beasts" he started walking, looking back over his shoulder, "Shall we?"

\-----

Turns out the Gallaghers were "huggers" Mikhailo found out, as a small red-haired girl wrapped her arms around his waist with no preamble. Not used to strange children hugging him, or anyone besides Mandy and Daryna really, he froze and hoped eventually she'd let go. Ian had laughed before gently prying the girl off of him, "Debbie! Relax please, not everyone likes hugs from strangers ye know." The girl, Debbie, looked up at him with wide eyes and stood back quickly, chastised. Realizing that he recognized that look, had seen it enough times on Mandy's face as a child when she had attempted to embrace Terry like she had seen her friends do, caused Mikhailo to feel flushed with shame. He felt his face heat slightly, "Is okay" he said gruffly. Ian raised his eyebrows behind him but the girl smiled at him shyly, then ran into what looked like the kitchen. "Fi!" she yelled, "Our guest is here!" A dark-haired woman emerged from the kitchen, her hair tied back messily and Debbie trailing behind her. She smiled too, _God_ _what was it with this family?_ Mikhailo had never seen so many smiles in the same room at the same time, it was putting him a little on edge. He really hoped this wasn’t going to turn out to be one of those horrific stories on the evening news, with him waking up and missing a kidney or something. "Mikhailo" she said pronouncing it slightly less terribly than Ian, "Great to have you here!" Thankfully, she only held her hand out for him to shake. "I'm Fiona, Ian's older sister," she explained, "you've met Debbie and this is Carl and Liam" she finished, gesturing to two more boys sitting at the dining table. Mikhailo's head spun a bit, but then he smelled something delicious wafting in from the kitchen. Peering around her to see if anyone else would be coming out to introduce themselves, and to see if the food was coming, he missed the arched look she sent Ian's way.  
"Don't worry!" she said as she strode back to the kitchen, "Supper is on its way!"

The meal had been delicious, but if Mikhailo had thought that food would mean some peace and quiet he was sadly mistaken. He watched, oddly fascinated, as the Gallaghers managed to keep up several threads of conversation while eating their dinner. Afterwards Fiona had shooed Ian and Mikhailo out to do the cows evening feed before employing Carl to dry the dishes. They had closed the door to Carl's complaining and Ian laughed "No dishwasher here I'm afraid." he informed Mikhailo. He merely shrugged in response, he had never been able to afford such contraptions anyways, and what was the need when you could just as easily wash and dry the dishes yourself?

Ian showed him around the barn, where they kept their equipment and then they gave the cows their evening feed. Ian was bending over to check something and it just slipped out "Твоя жопка мену подобаєтьцьа" he murmured.

"What was that?" Ian asked when he turned around. Mikhailo gave the nearest cow a pat on the rump.  
"Nice Cow" he said, hoping he sounded convincing.  
Ian smiled, then straightened, "Well, that's all for tonight I guess, we'll start tomorrow around 5:30? We can go up to the top pasture and check on the sheep."  
Mikhailo nodded, it wasn't too late, but the sky was dark and the warmth of the caravan and promise of rest was beckoning.  
"I was going to have a quick cuppa before bed, wouldya like some tea?" Ian asked, interrupting his thoughts. Looking up at Ian's hopeful face, how could he say no? He nodded, "Tea would be good." Once they took of their boots in the house Fiona's voice wafted down from the second floor "Ian? Need your help for a moment!"  
Ian looked at him apologetically and gestured to the doorway at the other-side of the room. "Telly's through there, I'll go see what Fiona wants and I'll be down in a sec."

As he bounded up the stairs Mikhailo took a minute to look at the space unobserved. He peered at the framed photos sitting on the mantle, an old black and white photo of a couple that had crimped edges and was slightly faded. Then a family photo, he could pick out a young, even more red-headed Ian standing at the back beside a blonde woman. Lastly there was more recent photo of the 6 children, all of them smiling and Debbie in the centre, holding a lamb with a yellow ribbon tied around its neck. Not wanting to get caught snooping, he followed the noise through the doorway and stepped into a separate living area, complete with a deep, comfy looking couch and several armchairs clustered around a flatscreen tv. Perched in the middle of the couch was the youngest Gallagher...Liam? he thought. The young boy looked up at his entrance and he waved, always feeling a bit awkward around young children. Trying to look as unassuming and non-threatening as possible, he approached the couch slowly then crouched down. "Hello" he said softly, "What is your name?" The little boy pointed to his chest, "I'm Liam!" he stated proudly. Mikhailo mentally congratulated himself on already committing several of the seemingly-endless Gallagher siblings names to memory..now if he could only remember the second youngest boy...K..something..  
"Who you?" Liam asked loudly, making Mikhailo think maybe the boy had already asked once. "I am Mikhailo" he said, trying to draw out the syllables. "Mick--"  
"MICKEY!" The little boy shouted, interrupting him. Mikhailo could feel his expression shift into one of surprise. Not even 24 hours and the kid was already giving him a nickname?  
Liam pointed at the TV then back at him "Mickeymouse!" he said by way of explanation. Mikhailo looked closer at the television, which did indeed seem to be playing an old Disney VHS tape. "Mickey?" he asked, trying out the name and not hating the way it felt on his tongue.

He heard the creak of approaching footsteps and wasn't too startled when Ian walked in with a couple of mugs. "Have ye made a new friend Liam?" he asked, a laugh in his voice. Liam nodded enthusiastically and smacked his hand down on Mikhailo's shoulder, which did startle him a little bit. “Mickey's my friend!" he announced proudly. _Fucking touchy-feely_ , all of them! Still, it's not like the little kid's hand bothered him that much, and it would be rude to shrug his clammy little paw off. It appeared they were friends now, after all."It's Mickey now is it?" Ian asked and the smile that spread across his face made Mikhailo's heart flip. He decided maybe he liked the nickname, maybe it was growing on him. Ian placed the mugs on the table, using the nearest book or scrap of paper as a coaster, then quickly ran out and returned with a plate of cookies."A biscuit!" Liam cried, just as happily, and Mikhailo was strangely pleased to cause the same level of happiness in the little boy as a chocolate cookie. "Well" Ian said, sitting on Liam's right, “Feel free to help yourself to a biscuit as well _Mickey_.”

\-------

Mikhailo awoke to a strange sensation, it almost felt like someone was kissing-- "що на хрен!!" He yelped as he opened his eyes to see none other than Ian Gallagher perched on top of him, pressing opened-mouth kisses along his neck. Momentarily robbed of his English, all he could do was swear in Ukrainian as he continued his ministrations lower, across his collarbones and to his bare chest--he always slept in just his boxers, no matter what the weather. Figuring this was either heaven, or a very vivid dream, he decided to just let it happen, running his fingers through the dark red hair and Mikhailo could feel his heartbeat, could hear it thump-thumping. It got louder, almost like a beeping...alarm clock?

He opened his eyes reluctantly and reached out blindly for his phone, he usually woke up before that annoying-as-hell alarm. Turning it off he saw he'd slept in a bit, and scrambled to get his clothes on, grabbing an extra plaid shirt for warmth and doubling his socks. Stepping out into the cold morning air, he knew that was the right call. When he got to the front door he hovered for a second awkwardly, not sure if he should knock and risk walking the younger ones up this early in the morning, or just go inside. Starting to feel more than a little chilled, he decided to just go in and hope for the best. Knocking quietly once, he then opened the door and stepped into the hallway--and was immediately assaulted with the smell of bacon frying in the pan. He kicked off his boots, which he had only tied loosely, and took a few steps into the hall, only to almost run into Ian, who came bounding out of the kitchen.  
"Oh! There you are, was wondering if I should swing by and knock on your door, G'morning!"  
 _Jesus_ , how was he this cheery so early in the morning? Mikhailo had always been a light sleeper so getting up early was never a problem, but it didn't mean he liked it so much as the Irishman clearly did.  
"Good morning" he said, trying to sound friendly, and trying hard not to think about the more-than-friendly dream he had last night. Fiona poked her head out of the kitchen doorway, "Eggs! Fried or scrambled?" she asked.  
He was expecting cereal at best, so was caught a little unprepared at the lavish breakfast, let alone that his eggs were being cooked to order. He made a whisking motion with his hand, just to make sure he understood right, "scramble?"  
Ian nodded in understanding "scrambled for both of us Fi!"  
"Oh now I'm a short order cook am I?" she said good-naturedly, before turning back to the stove. Ian gestured to the dining table, which was already set. "Just pick a seat, I'll be right back!"

Mikhailo shrugged, his stomach growling again, and picked a seat at the far side of the table. He was cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms when Ian returned, with two plates piled high with food. "Got to start your first day with a good feed, mmm?" Mikhailo nodded as Ian set a plate down in front of him, "Thank you."  
Ian smiled and sat down across from him. "So what does that mean in your language?" he asked, gesturing at his knuckle tattoos. Mikhailo flushed, forkful of eggs half-way to his mouth. He had a pretty good idea of the English translation, but was also fairly certain it wasn't something you'd say at breakfast. Fiona's entrance with the teapot saved him, "Tea?" she asked, pouring them all a cup when Mikhailo nodded. "If ye want coffee we can always buy some in town" she said, sitting down. He shook his head and finished chewing, "Tea is good."  
She smiled, digging in to her own breakfast and watching him eat his. "Everything taste alright?"  
He nodded again "Very good, thank you."  
"I hope you slept alright" Ian chimed in.  
Mikhailo glanced up at him, thinking that they must talk this much at every meal and wondering how they ever got anything done. "Yes" he managed, before gesturing to the flat, buttered kind of pancake on his plate, "What this is?"  
"Potato farl" Ian answered, spearing a piece of his and popping it into his mouth. "We're big on potatoes here, Mikhailo...or should I call you Mickey now?"  
Fiona choked a little on her tea, "Mickey?" she asked incredulously, "Are you lads that close already Ian?"  
Mikhailo hoped desperately that he wasn't blushing. _Fuck this guy making him blush all the time_!  
Ian laughed, " _We_ may not be, but Liam has bestowed our new guest a nickname. Would solve the problem of us butchering his real name all the time." Now Mikhailo felt a little bad, he thought he'd managed not to wince too obviously at their pronunciation. Evidently not.  
"Would that be alright?" Fiona asked, a bit sheepishly.  
Mikhailo found himself nodding automatically, which freaked him out a bit because he was rarely so...co-operative. He quickly downed the last of his tea and gestured to the toilet out in the hall, "Can I.." he trailed off.  
They both nodded, and he walked quickly to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He splashed some water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. What the hell was going on? Sure he needed to act the part and be nice enough to these people if he wanted his money, but he was suspicious of how easy it felt. Like he genuinely wanted to be nice to the Gallaghers. _What the actual fuck_!?

Shaking his head and reminding himself that he just had to make it a couple of weeks, he took a piss and washed his hands before rejoining Ian and Fiona at the table. As he turned into the room he heard the end of a conversation

"--so cute!" Fiona teased, as Ian said "yeah yeah" and quickly swallowed what looked like a hand-full of pills. Okay, he had definitely missed something. Ian looked caught off guard at Mikhailo's return, but carefully arranged his face back into its usual easy smile. "You finished?" he asked, tilting his head to the empty plate. Mikhailo nodded and Ian stood up, stretching his long arms above his head, the motion also pulling the hem of his shirt up and exposing a sliver of his stomach. No he was definitely **NOT STARING** , as Ian quickly ducked down to peck his sister on the cheek then followed Mikhailo back to the front door. The two pulled on their boots and jackets and headed out into the slightly brighter, but still cold winter day. Mikhailo followed Ian silently as he entered the barn, pulling a tarp off of a sturdy four-wheeler. Ian bent over it ( _nope! definitely not admiring his ass again_ ) and tossed him a helmet which he inspected, before pulling it over his head. Seemed like overkill, he thought, how fast could a thing like this even go? He got his answer a few minutes later as Ian put his foot down on the gas, the thing actually beat a good speed. They sped over a pot hole and Mikhailo reached out to grab at Ian, purely to stop from falling off the seat, of course. If Ian minded he didn't say so, just kept on driving while Mikhailo let go of his jacket, instead gripping the back of the four wheeler tightly. No way was he going to hold on to this guy like some kind of scared girl. Mikhailo exhaled loudly and hoped they were almost there, animals he could deal with, but Ian Gallagher was proving to be another creature entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Твоя жопка мену подобаєтьцьа = I like your cute little butt 
> 
> що на хрен! = What the hell!


End file.
